


Through song, I'll understand

by OtakuRN



Category: Medicine - Harry Styles (Song)
Genre: Black Original Female character - Freeform, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:05:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21902977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OtakuRN/pseuds/OtakuRN
Summary: A drabble I wrote after listening to "Adore me" by Harry Styles. We met at the bar and got to know each other kinda. Songs tell how you feel.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Original Female Character(s)





	Through song, I'll understand

"When is the last time felt completely comfortable and free?"

I didn't have an answer. I hadn't met him yet. Just exchanging messages on Bumble. They had been cordial and created giggles but nothing extraordinary. Did I need extraordinary? Maybe ordinary will be enough, I'm lonely. I still didn't have an answer. It weighs heavy on my mind. 

With his wispy brown locks, hazel eyes, sprinkling of facial hair, tall slender frame, a British accent, and a myriad of eclectic tattoos which I had so many questions about, I found myself seated in front of him one or twice a week sipping my rum with mango juice. Harry made it for me each time I came to the bar, his fingernails painted with black nail polish except for one. His middle finger, that one was painted red. 

His speech is always slow like honey, offering me the drink with water and tacos. I had gotten a bit too tipsy the first few times in drinking here, this place is half-way between work and home called "Saucy Peach." He works as one of the bartenders and sings when the place has open mic night. His accent pokes fun at me singing along with people who perform as well but never going up myself. I often tell him that I'd need to drink a barrel of rum for that to happen. We laugh and watch as various people attempt to perform. Some good, mostly bad and a few very ugly performances.

I always chatted with him at the bar, only interacting with other patrons if they spoke to me. He never seemed to mind, though I didn't ask if he did.

The night he asked me those questions, it was after closing. I was helping him clean up since everyone else had gone home. It was four in the morning on a Friday turning into Saturday. I stayed because I was promised chocolate ice cream with kahlua in it. He finished sweeping as I put away the last set of glasses. We sat down for a few then he got me a bottle of water while he fired up the microphones. I went on my phone checking my messages from my easy to talk to but bland Bumble suitor. I smile weakly at the screen, more of the same but still nice.

Harry used his phone to play Whitney Houston but brought up "Heartbreak Hotel." I laughed and put mine down, taking his to find a Whitney song I had been singing a lot: “Saving all my love for You.” I was able to make three to four solid notes before squandering the rest of the song. He watched me intently by his hazel gaze which made me even more nervous, but greater still, I didn’t want him to look away. Despite what I was trying to do through the app, I wanted him to hear me and understand. I know that he’s younger than me, in a different phase of his life, take me in. My awkwardness, weird snorts, hand gestures, crying, drunkenness, work complaints, and everything else. I didn’t finishing singing. Harry stopped the music with a soft press of his finger never taking an eye off me.

"When is the last time you felt completely comfortable and free?"

The tall chestnut-haired man glided toward me and put his hand over mine on the microphone. I just looked at him, confused by the questions. I thought I was, wasn’t he watching? I smiled, realizing in him asking me he had missed what I had been trying to communicate.

“I thought I just did. I suppose even when I try and let go, I still end up holding back. I’m very tightly wound.” I chuckled and looked down, I wanted to cry. More of the same, at least with the guy online I still had the polite messages to fall back on before it going poorly in person. My free hand covered my face but was moved and replaced by a kiss to my cheek, my eyes widened as I felt pressure on the microphone.

“Don’t look down. You sang for me didn’t you doll? I’ll sing for you next. Switch places with me.” He spoke slowly, letting go of my hand on the mic and wrapping it in both of his. Harry ran through a quick scale to warm his voice up more, then picked up his guitar to play with his song ‘Adore me.’ I stood listening to his voice, its highs and dangerous lows that stirred the longing within me, the lust. I want to grab him, but I don’t want him to stop singing either. He did however and set his guitar back down bidding with his hand to come sit next to him on the couch.

“Thank you. I feel better. That song was beautiful. You should sing it at the next open mic night.” I genuinely was impressed with his lyrics and arrangement. A mental note was made to ask him to teach me how to play the guitar.

“Love, that song was only for you and it wasn’t to make you feel better. It was to make you understand too.” A ringed hand touched my hand as I looked down to see that red fingernail leading the others playfully toward the hem of my dress. Harry smirked as he scanned my face. I laid a hand on the exposed part of his chest in the middle of his two butterflies.

“I think about your fluffy hair, silly grin, syrupy voice and what you can do with that red tipped finger of yours.” My lips brushed his chin, his hand moved up my hem and found my inner thigh. I breathed him in, a light musk came off his moist skin. Harry’s lips took mine for only a moment then parted.

“I’ll kiss you after I hear what sound you make from my red finger darling.”

“Such a tease! I’ll be wearing those pearls soon enough.”

**Author's Note:**

> At the time Harry had a manicure with a red middle finger. I think about his hands quite a bit.


End file.
